The One That Got Away
by Screaming Ferret
Summary: Padfoot and Prong's misadventure with a muggle hunter. Please rr:


A/N: I don't know where this came from but I thought it seemed like an interesting idea for a fic. The characters etc belong to JK (except Peter Gill) Please review, I read them avidly! Have a nice day, now:)  
  
THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY.  
  
  
James Potter gazed out of the window of the holiday cottage with delight. The early morning sun shined on miles of open moorland and forest. There was not another human being in sight. He grinned to himself. The place had possibilities.  
A loud groan behind him announced the arrival of his best friend, Sirius Black.  
"Duh. I hate mornings" Sirius announced, stretching. "The only reason mornings exist is to stop evenings and afternoons bumping into each other."  
"Stop moaning and look at that" James said, waving at the window. "What does that wilderness suggest to you?"  
Sirius glanced out the window, then back at James. A grin spread across his face. "That suggests the opportunity of mucho Marauding, Prongs my friend. A whole moor. Mum and Dad'll let us do whatever we want. Moony will be gutted he didn't come when we tell him."  
"Yes indeed, Padfoot old boy. Look out Scotland, here come Padfoot and Prongs"  
  
Peter Gill was a hunter. He had come to the Scottish Highlands for a bit of a holiday, a break from an exhausting year at the Company. He intended to do a bit of fishing, some shooting (grouse maybe, or deer) and relax away from the wife and kids. Besides which, she didn't really approve of his little hobby, and hated fish.   
  
The morning had dawned fine and the deer prospects were good. A local man (Peter couldn't pronounce his name) had told him where to find a good herd. He had his licence; his gun and his dogs were raring to go. The hunter locked the door of his hunting cabin, shouldered his deer rifle and whistled to his dogs. They were golden retrievers, both of them. Not deer hunters, but he would no more dreamed of leaving them at home than he would his guns. Polly and Pearl ranged out in front of Peter as they walked, exploring every fold of the land. The sun was warm as the hunter and his dogs climbed higher up the moor. Polly walked close to her master, her long pink tongue hanging out. Pearl ran on ahead, occasionally startling a grouse to flight. Once she flushed a huge grey fox from cover in the heather. The old grey dog fox bounded off across the heather, Polly and Pearl chased enthusiastically, but the fox reached the ridge first, looked back at his pursuers with a mocking bark and disappeared into the rocks.  
  
The view from the top of the ridge was astounding. The Highland stretched away into the far distance. Much of it was shrouded in mist and great mountains reared their heads on the horizon. The heather was ablaze with sweet-smelling purple flowers. And there, in the valley below the ridge, was a herd of red deer. The herd stag stood slightly apart from the hinds, surveying his kingdom from a flat-topped rock. Peter dropped to the heather. Lying flat on his stomach, he wormed his way forward to get a better look. The deer had not seen him. Peter breathed a sigh of relief and crawled back to the top.   
  
James and Sirius had sneaked out of the house at dawn, leaving a note to Sirius's parents. As soon as they were away from the cottage, they had transformed. James into a great white stag, and Sirius into a large black dog. They had become Animagi in their fifth year and roamed at will through the grounds of Hogwarts and the Forbidden Forest. The holiday in Scotland gave them the opportunity to be Padfoot and Prongs for two whole weeks.   
  
The two ran side by side across the moor, as fast as they could. Sirius had suggested the race, even though he rarely beat James as a stag. James skidded to a halt by a fast flowing beck and looked back at his friend.   
Come on, Padfoot he laughed. Why didn't you choose to be a snail? You would've been faster  
Shut up, Prongs Sirius grumbled as he reached James. For your information, I smelt something.  
What? Your BO? L'air du sweaty dog. Yum yum  
Quit trying to be funny, Prongs. I smell a man and a dog. Maybe two. Bitches  
Oooh, Padfoot's discovering girls James teased. Sirius growled. Knock it off, fluff-for-brains. I thought we could, you know, sneak up on him. We haven't Marauded anyone for ages. I'm getting withdrawal symptoms  
James thought this over for a moment. You're right, we don't want to get outta practice. Where is he?  
Other side of that ridge. Can we? Please?   
James stamped a hoof. Of course we shall. In the great tradition of the Hogwarts Marauders, we will find this man and scare him to death   
Good said Sirius with satisfaction. Lets go  
The Marauders left for the ridge at top speed. Sirius was pretty soon left behind to choke in James's dust trail, but the white stag was not as good at climbing rocky trails as Padfoot and they were neck and neck when they reached the top.  
  
  
Peter was sitting on a rock below the skyline loading his gun when the sound of hooves reached his ears. He snapped the barrel shut and cocked the gun with his thumb before crawling up to the top to check on the herd. They were galloping full tilt down the valley, disappearing into the mist at the far end. Peter swore. It might take hours to find them again. What had made them stampede? He got up and looked around. The cause of the stampede was almost on top of him before he knew it.   
  
A huge white stag thundered towards him, antlered head lowered for the charge. Peter threw himself to one side and the stag galloped past. The hunter had the presence of mind to bring up his gun, but not before the stag had wheeled for another charge.   
  
  
James reached the top of the ridge first. The scent of man and dog was very strong now. He cast a look around, and then the man stood up, silhouetted against the sky. If James could have grinned, he would've. He lowered his head and charged the startled Muggle. The man brought up a long metal tube and pointed it at him. Instinctively, James swerved. The thing let off a bang like a fillibuster firework and an evil smell.   
Oh man, anything that smells that bad can't be good he caught himself thinking. Then Sirius was there, barking madly. Prongs, you OK? he yelled, running towards them. The terrified Muggle raised his tube again, this time it was pointed at Sirius.  
Sirius! James shouted, rearing. Get out of here! That thing is bad. I think it can kill  
Sirius threw himself to the heather just in time as the gun went off again. Merlin's beard, Prongs. What is that thing?  
James charged the Muggle again. This time he sent him sprawling. The gun went flying into the heather. The hunter's head cracked against a stone and he was out cold. Sirius changed back. He was white and shaking. He carefully picked up the tube and examined it. "What the hell is it Prongs? You do Muggle Studies."   
James took the weapon and turned it over. He frowned. "I think it's called a 'gun'. Muggles use it to kill each other."  
"No" Sirius corrected. "Muggles use it to kill wizards. Stupid man didn't even recognise Animagi when he saw them."  
James shrugged. He looked at the gun again, then casually threw it on the ground between them. It banged again. Sirius dropped to the ground with a yell, clutching his leg. "It got me, James! The bloody thing exploded!"  
James peeled back the leg of Sirius's jeans. The wound was bloody, but shallow. It did not seem to be serious. He looked at the white-faced Sirius. "We'd better get you to your mum. She knows loads more healing charms than I do. She never asks too many questions either."  
  
Mrs Black took her son's injury quite calmly. She was used to his frequent 'accidents'. The last one had been an attempt to make a giant firework that had gone spectacularly wrong, blowing up Sirius, James, the neighbour's empty summerhouse and the cat. Mrs Black fixed Sirius up with a wave of her wand, but she did confine them to the house for the rest of the day.  
Sirius lounged in the armchair, rubbing his leg. "I still can't believe it exploded. At me!" He was highly indignant about the whole thing. "First that muggle tries to shoot me with that thing, then it goes and does it of its own accord!"  
James however, now that Sirius was OK, found the adventure to be highly amusing, much to Sirius's disgust.  
  
  
Peter Gill had come round in the early evening, just before the search party from the village found him. His dogs were cowering under an overhanging rock. His gun had been turned to rubber and was lying in the beck. The villagers took him back to the village pub, the Black Swan. Peter sat at the bar and told his story to whoever would listen. The villagers all nodded sagely and topped up his whiskey glass, but none of them believed a word of it.   
Peter returned home two days later and told his tale to his incredulous family, who also didn't believe him. He never touched a gun again. And as such tales tend to grow over time, so Peter told his grandchildren and great grandchildren about the gigantic black wolf, big as a carthorse and his friend, the great silver stag. The one that got away.   
  



End file.
